


Made for Walking

by Fyre



Category: Kinky Boots (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-18
Updated: 2008-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie, Lola, one too many drinks and a pair of spectacular red boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made for Walking

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Abby
> 
> Written for Abby

 

 

The first order was waiting for them when they got back from Milan. George told him the phone had been ringing off the hook, and Lola had given him a knowing smile. She was good at that.

"Niche-market, Charlie boy," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Told you we're everywhere."

That was six months ago. Everything had changed since then. 

The factory was running until all hours, and he'd even had to take on new staff. Orders were still coming in, and Lola had set up something on the internet, which meant some of the orders were even coming from as far away as America. And they were out of the red and so far into the black, he insisted that he take everyone for a drink.

Somehow, he and Lauren ended up back at Lola's place. She'd found a little flat that looked like it should have been in London. Maybe that was colours or the decorating. Whatever it was, you couldn't deny the flat was hers.

"To us!"

"Again?" Lauren giggled. 

It was the last drop from the third bottle of wine and every glass had been raised in a toast.

Lola smiled. "What is wine without a toast?" she demanded. "To us!"

"To us!" Lauren agreed. "And our boots!"

"Our magnificent boots!" Lola exclaimed.

"Best boots inna world," Charlie said, raising his glass. "Big! Red! Tubular sex!"

Both of them looked at him.

"I do believe our Mister Price might be a little drunk, don't you?" Lola murmured to Lauren, who covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself giggling.

"M'not!" Charlie protested, struggling to sit up and almost sliding off the leather couch. "Just a little bit sleepy, s'all!"

"If sleepy translates into Northamptonese as pissed as a newt," Lola said innocently. She turned her attention to Lauren, letting Charlie continue his determined struggle to stay on the couch. "Tell you what. I'll keep this one here, until he can walk in a straight line. I wouldn't trust him to get down the stairs tonight."

"Hopeless, isn't he?"

Charlie's voice rose from the floor. "M'still here, y'know!" He pulled himself up, clinging to the arm of the couch. "I can get down the stairs!"

Lauren leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. "Stand up, then?"

Charlie blinked at her, then slowly subsided. "Like the floor."

Lauren glanced at Lola. "You don't mind?"

"Mind?" Lola laughed. "I was starting to miss having drunken men passing out at my feet." She patted Lauren reassuringly on the arm. "You go home and enjoy your bed for once, without the blanket stealing and the snoring. I'll have Prince Charming on the couch and safe as houses."

"Don't steal blankets..." The voice drifted up plaintively from the floor.

"Course you don't," Lola said smoothly, offering Lauren a hand to help her up. "We'll see you at the factory tomorrow."

Lauren smiled. "You'd better be there. There's a meeting at lunch time."

"Oh, we'll be there," Lola assured her. "Can't have someone else stealing my glory now, can I?" Charlie made an incoherent sound of indignation. "Well, all right then. Our glory." She helped Lauren into her coat. "I'll have him looking respectable too."

"That'll be a shock for everyone," Lauren said, giggling.

Lola laughed. "Sweetheart, I don't think Charlie's the only one who's flying three sheets to the wind."

Lauren focussed on her enough to give her a stern glare. "I'm completely sober."

"And I'm the Queen of Spain," Lola replied, bending to kiss her on the cheek. "You go and have a good night's sleep."

"If he snores," Lauren said, walking towards the door very carefully, "give him a poke or hit him with a pillow."

"Love, if you think I'm getting out of my bed to do that, you've got another thing coming," Lola said, opening the door for her. "I have ear plugs and a night mask just for these kinds of situations."

Lauren smiled sleepily. "Sleep well."

"I plan too," Lola assured her.

She closed the door after Lauren and turned back to Charlie, who had managed to pull himself back up onto the couch. Hands on her hips, she gave him a thoughtful look. "So, were you this far gone when you decided it would be a good idea to put on the boots in Milan?"

"Wasn't drunk then," Charlie said, clinging onto the arm of the couch to stop himself falling off again. "Thought someone had to go."

"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," Lola sighed. "One does not merely put on boots such as our little masterpieces and walk in them. One has to have attitude."

"I have attitude!" Charlie said, wide-eyed. "I have lots."

Lola approached him and crouched down to his level to look him in the eye. "Charlie, I saw the footage. Bambi on ice had more grace."

He blinked at her. "They flashed their cameras at me!"

"Well, that's what photographers do at a fashion show," Lola replied, patting his knee. 

"Bet I could do it," he informed her. "Bet I could. Could walk in them and everything. I was just nervous and scared and stuff then."

A plucked eyebrow arched upwards. "Would you want to?"

"Wore my dad's shoes for years," Charlie replied stoutly. "Why not try ones what I made?"

Plum-coloured lips turned up at one side. "Just when I think I've got the measure of you, Mister Price. Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"Course it is!" he exclaimed indignantly. "You just think I can't!"

"I didn't say that."

Charlie pulled himself upright with all the tipsy pride he could muster. "Get me a pair an' I'll show you!"

"Now may not be the best time..."

"I'll show you!"

Lola's lips twitched. "And if you fall over and break your ankle, you won't blame me?"

"See? You think I'll fall over!"

"Charlie," Lola said with as much seriousness as she could manage. "There's not a single person in the Angel club who didn't fall over the first times they tried wearing heels, and they were probably a bit more sober."

"I can do it," Charlie insisted stubbornly. "Get me boots."

Lola pushed herself up with a sigh. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

She left him clinging to the couch, and returned five minutes later with a pair of gleaming red boots. They weren't the first attempt, which he noticed, because...

"You're making me wear baby heels!"

"Call them stabilisers," Lola replied, grabbing one of his feet and almost pulling him off the couch in the process. "You wouldn't get on a bike and try and ride it without stabilisers to start you off. It's the same with heels." She looked up at him, and her eyes glittered. "I want to break you in gently."

"Could manage big ones," Charlie mumbled sullenly.

"That's what all the girls say," Lola said cheerfully, dispensing with his trainers and pulling his socks off too. She studied his feet, then fished into the pocket of her jeans.

"What's that!?"

"This," Lola replied, "is what we girls call a stocking." Charlie stared at it, horrified. "Oh, don't make a fuss, Charlie-boy. Just think of it as a very thin sock, so your feet don't go slithering around inside my boots."

"Yeah, but stockings are..."

"What go under these boots," Lola cut in smoothly. "If you want to try one, you have to wear the other."

Doubtfully, he watched her roll it over his foot and smooth it up his calf as far as his trousers would let her.

"This would've been better if we'd got your trousers off," she mused.

"No!" Charlie waved a finger at her. "I'm not getting undressed!"

"But you did it in Milan," she pointed out, and he remembered that he had almost completely erased that part of that memory. "So you can do it in front of thousands of people and cameras, but when it's just me, you won't get your kegs off?" She reached for his belt and he yelped and swatted her hands off. "No stockings," she warned, "means no boots."

Charlie looked gloomily at her and reached for his belt. She sat back, all wide-eyed innocence, until his trousers were undone, then she grabbed the ankles and tugged. Charlie yelled as he pitched off the couch. He just missed her lap and Lola triumphantly held up his trousers. 

"Better!"

"You almost took my pants off!" he protested.

She gave him an amused look. "Ah, the little losses I must endure," she said, and grabbed his ankle again. The sheer stocking rolled up his leg and he watched hairs poking through it, glittering in funny ways.

"How'd'you do that?" he demanded suddenly.

"Do what?"

Charlie waved vaguely at his leg. "You've got nails. How'd'you do it so you don't have holes in them?"

"That, my boy," Lola said mysteriously, "is one of the tricks that we girls have to take to our graves."

He tried to watch the second stocking being rolled on, but it went on like magic, smooth and not a hole anywhere to be seen. He turned his leg this way and that, then looked at Lola, who shrugged and gave him a smile.

"It's a skill."

The boots were pulled closer and he demandingly held out a foot. The boots were hers, so they were almost half a size too big for him, but that was all right. They slipped on neatly and he felt himself go red as she zipped them up to his inner thigh.

"Turn about is fair, Charlie Price," she said, smiling that wide, white smile.

"You think this is funny," Charlie grumbled.

"Course I do!" Lola laughed, pushing herself to her feet. She held out her hands to help him up. "Now, come along, Bambi. Show me what you can do."

He managed to get upright.

It would later be agreed that it was a good start.

There were almost three paces, careful and almost completely without Lola's support, but the minute he stepped off the fur rug and onto the wooden floor, things went a bit wrong. Lola caught him before he hit the rug. Or something.

They ended up in a heap on the floor, and he burst out laughing.

"You're an idiot, Charlie boy," Lola said, leaning over him and laughing. "Next time, we do this when you're not sloshed, all right? That way, you won't need me to hold your hand."

He gave her a happy smile. "You think I can do it?"

"Didn't say that," she said, big dark eyes looking down at him, "but probably. You just need to get some practise in."

Charlie beamed at her. "You're nice," he announced, putting his arms around her and giving her a big hug that made her eyes widen even more. "You're my best girl after Lauren. If you were... if you weren't a... I mean, if you were a really real girl, I would kiss you."

Lola's expression softened and she sighed fondly. "Charlie boy," she said, "if I was a really real girl, we wouldn't be here." She sat up and slipped an arm under his shoulders. "Come on, Prince Charming. I think you need to get to bed."

"I'll fall offa couch," Charlie warned, as he was hoisted over her shoulder.

"I didn't say couch, Charlie," Lola replied, only staggering a little bit under his weight. "I said bed, because you're a silly bugger with no sense of balance." She tottered in the direction of her bedroom. "I'll take the couch."

"Don' need to..." Charlie mumbled, bouncing against her back.

"What are second best girls that you would almost kiss for?" she teased, dropping him on the bed with a groan. "Good god, you weigh a bleeding ton." She rubbed her back and looked down at him. "You all right?"

Sprawled on his back, Charlie nodded with a drowsy smile. "Should do this more," he told her, drawing patterns on his shirt with his fingers. "S'lots of fun."

"That it is, Charlie boy," Lola said softly. She tugged off the boots before pulling the blanket over him. "There you go."

He curled onto his side. "Night."

A scarlet-nailed finger gently brushed a curl back from his temple. "Good night, Charlie," she said in a whisper and touched a kiss to his brow. "Sweet dreams."

Then she switched the light off and closed the door behind her.

 


End file.
